Just One Night (3 page)

“Great. That’s good. If I meet a guy, I just hope he likes my shoes, since they’re now welded to my feet by a cross-section of broken blisters.”

“Yeah, maybe don’t open with that. Save it until after he sees your boobs. Then maybe he’ll be willing to put up with your whining.”

“I’m now permanently hobbled and you think it’s my whining that’s going to drive them away?”

“Either that or your cooking.”

“Okay, you got me there,” she admitted. “I give a mean back rub though.”

“Hey, babe.”

Her stomach bottomed out at the sound of the familiar voice. She turned around to see Tomas standing behind her. He wore her favorite green button-down shirt that clung to his muscles when he moved.

“Hey, yourself. What are you guys doing here?”

“Patrick’s dating one of the bartenders, so he wanted to come by. Plus I wanted to see if you were really going out tonight or if you were going to bail on Renee and hole up in the house again like a shut-in.”

She shot him a withering glare, and he flashed a smile, dimple and all. Despite her annoyance, she couldn’t contain her answering grin. Why did he have to be so damned cute?

“Renee and I were just about to do a shot of tequila.”

“Where is Renee?”

Micah whipped her head around to where her friend had been standing, but she was gone. She looked across the bar to where Renee’s intended victim had been and noted that he too was gone. Great.

“She must have landed him.” She pulled out her phone and whipped off a quick text consisting only of a question mark.

“You driving?”

“Nope, took a cab. You?”

“No, Patrick’s designated.”

Her phone buzzed. The text from Renee said,
Don’t wait up.
Micah blew out a sigh. She should be happy—she hadn’t wanted to come out in the first place. Now was her chance to call it a night. But Tomas’s little comment about her being a shut-in had rankled, and she realized she needed to change her outlook on life. Renee had it right. She should live it up. Life was too short to be shy, and she was wasting her youth in the living room watching sitcom reruns.

She held up two fingers to the bartender and shouted, “Tequila,” over the din.

“Since when do you do shots?”

“Since right now.”

The pretty brunette came over and set the drinks on the bar, her eyes lingering on Tomas for a long moment before she turned away.

Micah bit back a snarl. “Here’s mud in your eye.” Taking a fortifying breath, she knocked back the golden liquid. Her eyes watered, and she jammed the lemon slice in her mouth, sucking hard. A seed snuck its way down her throat along with the juice, and she choked back a cough. Blinking back tears, she pasted on a smile and croaked, “Smooth.”

Tomas rolled his eyes. Apparently his had gone down easier than hers.
Show off.
“What are you doing, babe? You know you’re a lightweight, and this is asking for trouble.”

She slapped a hand on the bar. “Maybe that’s exactly what I need. A little trouble. I’ve been thinking, and you were right. My life is a total bore. I’m twenty-five years old—I should be out living it up.” A tingly feeling crept over her limbs, and the anxious thoughts blaring in her head seemed to soften to dull whispers. Yup, it was working already. She held up two fingers to the bartender, who responded with a nod.

“Getting drunk isn’t going to solve your problems.”

“Nope, but maybe it’ll give me a little false confidence and I can get out there and start meeting people…do something wild and fun. I’m sick of being sweet, predictable Micah. She’s a snoozer.”

“Wild like what?” He leveled her a stern gaze. “When I said you needed to get out, I didn’t mean do something reckless. I meant socialize, see friends, spend less time at home. I just didn’t want you falling into a funk after the fallout with your family. You’re not some party girl, Mike. That’s not you.”

“Well it’s going to be. I’m not getting any younger. I don’t want to look back and regret wasting my twenties on the couch, and I don’t even like cats that much. I wanna live!” She threw her arms out wide then let out a yelp as her elbow connected hard with the back of the chair next to her.

She turned to apologize and found a dark-haired guy in trendy glasses giving her the stink-eye. He pointedly looked down at his beer, which had spilled all over the bar. She gave him a pinky wave and a
my bad
smile.

She motioned to the bartender. “Back up my friend here as well.” Her victim seemed mollified and went back to ignoring her.

A moment later hers and Tomas’s tequila shots came, and she scooped hers up with a flourish. “Bottoms up.” The second one went down a little easier, and she gave herself a mental pat on the back. At this rate, she’d be a pro by the end of the night. Hopefully, before some girl came and threw herself at Tomas and he went home with her for the night. A sharp pain jabbed through her groovy haze, and she held up her hand again. Tomas took it in his and forced her to face him.

“How many drinks did you have before this one?”

“Two.”

“You’re going to be on your ass soon if you keep it up. You don’t have the constitution for this. How about we go home, I’ll make us some food, then we can make a list of ways to pep your life up that don’t involve you getting alcohol poisoning? Sound good? I’m going to ask for your tab.”

He leaned on the bar and tried to get the attention of the server without waiting for Micah’s response.

Who the hell did he think he was?

“Wanna dance?”

Micah looked up to see a handsome blond guy smiling at her.

“Me?”

He grinned and nodded. “Yes, you.”

His teeth were so white. “Your teeth are so white!” She made sure to emphasize her point by sticking her index finger into his mouth to rub them. “Slippery too. Like slippery Chiclets.”

Blondie didn’t pull away but he was getting blurry, so she closed one eye to get him back into focus again. He was still smiling, albeit a bit bemusedly.

“So you want to dance with me, huh? I’m not whatcha call a big dancer, but lucky for you I’ve decided to be wild now.” She wriggled her bottom and bounced off the chair, clutching the back to steady herself. “Boy, these are high. A person could maim themselves trying to get down.”

She turned to Tomas then grabbed his arm and yanked him around to face her. She poked him in the chest to add emphasis but forgot what she was going to say in the face of his scorching hotness. “Firm. Why do you have to be like that,” she mumbled miserably. “It’d be better if you were doughy.”

He looked like he was trying not to smile, but before she could consider why, she remembered what she wanted to tell him. “Let the bartender know I shall require a shorter chair when I get back.” She poked his chest once more for good measure and led Blondie to the dance floor.

“Are you okay?” her suitor asked. “You’re walking funny.”

“Oh, I have blisters. These shoes aren’t made for walking. But that’s just what they’ll do. One of these days…” She trailed off as she realized the rest of the song would be insulting. To make up for it, she complimented him, shouting over the thumping bass, “Your teeth are very white!”

He either didn’t hear her or ignored her. She shrugged. Whatever. By the time they found an empty spot, she was really feeling good and started snapping her fingers in time to the music. He busted out with the typical guy step—side to side, with a couple of pelvic thrusts tossed in—which was fine by her. She didn’t need to be shown up.

At first she followed suit, keeping it the standard, boring old Micah dance. She turned to see Tomas on the edge of the floor watching with eagle eyes, arms akimbo. She tipped her chin up and looked away. Screw it. If she was going to let loose and have fun, she might as well pull out all the stops. She closed her eyes and let herself go, shimmying and shaking her shoulders and hips, swiveling and dipping in time to the beat.

She was really getting into it when someone tugged on her arm. Cracking one eye open, she saw Blondie staring down at her.

“The song’s over.”

She realized with a start that the song was indeed over, and a flush burned her cheeks. “Oh, sorry. I was sort of—”

He had a dazed look on his face, and he shook his head. “You were great. No worries. C’mere.”

The music had slowed, and he pulled her into his arms. He was shorter than Tomas by a couple inches, but he still towered over her. She allowed herself to be led, and they swayed. It actually felt kind of nice to be held for a change. Being alone was hard…

She froze. Speaking of hard, Blondie had almost ceased moving and had taken to nudging his ding-a-ling against her stomach instead. She tried to pull away, but he squeezed her tight.

“Damn, you are so hot. What do you say we get out of here?”

She was still debating whether to ask him to let go or kick him in the twig and berries, when suddenly she was free.

“Time to go.” Tomas’s eyes drilled into hers like lasers as he released Blondie from a headlock.

“It’s cool, man. She’s into it. I don’t see what the problem is. Is she your girl or something?”

“She’s my little sister.”

Micah steeled her jaw and contemplated redirecting her kick rather than aborting it, when Tomas grabbed her wrist and pulled her toward the door.

“Wait, my tab!”

“I paid it already.” His tone was flat.

“I don’t need you to pay my tab,
big brother
.” The biting sarcasm was derailed when she stumbled and lost a sandal. She yanked her arm away from Tomas and limped back to get it. By the time she got back to the place the shoe had landed, it had been scooped up by a grinning guy wearing a bow tie.

“Hey, Cinderella, lose something?” he asked.

“Tha—”

Tomas strode up beside her and snatched the shoe. His lips were moving, but his teeth remained tightly stacked. “Sorry, Prince Charming, she’s about to turn into a very inebriated pumpkin, and we’ve got to go.”

He pulled her to the side then lifted her onto a nearby stool. Bending low, he wrapped his big hand around her calf and placed her leg onto his thigh. She sobered for a second as searing heat spiraled through her at the touch. He closed his fingers around her ankle, and she gasped as he ran his thumb over the sensitive hollow there. His gaze shot to hers, and she tried to keep from drowning in his dreamy brown eyes. Her body began to pitch forward, drawn by some invisible force surrounding him like a black hole. If only he would kiss her one time…

She jerked back, a little stunned. Holy shit. Had she been about to kiss him? She raised a hand to her lips to see if they were puckered. Nope. Just regular old lips. Well that was good, at least.

Tomas’s jaw tightened, and he jammed the shoe onto her foot. “You’re a menace, and you can’t walk in those heels all plastered like this.” With that, he stood and gave her his back. “Get on.”

She contemplated his broad back and considered arguing, but he was right. The shoes were tricky to get around in even when she was sober. After four drinks—or was it five?—she was liable to break an ankle. And who was she to pass up a chance to wrap her legs around the man she’d loved her whole life? Even if she
was
furious at him for the caveman antics.
Little sister, indeed.

She shrugged then stood on the footrest of the stool and hopped on Tomas’s back. Might as well make the most of it. She hung on like a baby gorilla, soaking in his warmth and the woodsy scent of his cologne with a satisfied sigh.

Forget first class—this was the only way to travel.

Chapter Four

Worst idea ever.

He’d opted for piggyback—rather than the romantic, bride-over-the-threshold routine—thinking it would be less intimate. Huge miscalculation. Having Mike’s shapely thighs wrapped around his waist, her full, soft breasts plastered against his back, was so affecting that, in spite of his fury, his cock sprang to life like a jack-in-the-box.

Biting back a curse, he tried to keep his mind on the goal. Get her out of the club before she did something stupid she’d regret.

He thought about what could have happened if he hadn’t been there. His stomach soured. She was one of the brightest people he knew, but she’d been so sheltered growing up that her street smarts left a lot to be desired.

The guy she’d been dancing with was a shark. He knew the type. He’d seen them in action more than once and had even stepped in before. Their MO was to find a vulnerable girl, get her good and soused and then take advantage. He would have kept feeding her drinks and the next thing she knew, she’d be waking up in his apartment, confused and humiliated. Or worse.

Bastard. It was one thing to find someone you had a connection with and hook up. As long as both parties knew the score and were in their right minds at the time, there was no harm in some safe fun. This was different, predatory, and he despised that. When she’d tried to get away from the fucker and he wouldn’t let go—

His hands shook, and he gripped Mike’s legs tighter.

When they finally reached the door, the bouncer held it open without a word. All in a day’s work for him, Tomas imagined. He just hoped the guy didn’t think he was one of those predators taking advantage of the poor drunk girl.

As he made his way across the parking lot, Micah was uncharacteristically quiet. By the time they got to Patrick’s car, he wondered if she’d fallen asleep.

“Mike?” he whispered.

“Yeah?”

He slid her gently to the ground. “You okay to stand?”

“Yeah. And I’m mad at you.” With that, she wheeled on him, fast as a mongoose, and punched him right in the gut.

“Oof!”

It hadn’t really hurt, but it shocked the shit out of him. She looked like an angry nymph. Her mass of red hair hung around her face in a wild tangle from the head-tossing on the dance floor. Her cheeks were hot pink, and her eyes were shining.

He tried to hold on to his ire, but it melted in the wake of her cuteness. His lips twitched, and she punched him again.

He grabbed her fist and held her still. “Why do you keep doing that?”

“I’m not your sister, jerk face.”